Namesake
by addledwalrus
Summary: Shortly after gaining independence, Latvia meets his new boss.


**I do not own Hetalia and I probably should apologize for including a real living person as a character in this story. I'll remove this if that is against the rules here.**

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**Riga, July 1993**

It had already been almost two years since Latvia had gained his independence from the Soviet Union and he still couldn't believe that he had achieved such a thing. He hoped his freedom would last this time, unlike the last time in 1940 when Russia forcibly occupied his land.

Today was a very special day however, for it would mean the next step in establishing his nationhood. He was due to meet his new boss in just a couple of hours and he was rather nervous, as he hadn't had a real leader for fifty-three years and had forgotten how to behave around one.

If it was any consolation, he'd heard that the man was a descendant of Kārlis Ulmanis, his last boss before the Russian occupation. He remembered how Kārlis used to treat him almost like a son, which only made the news of his death from dysentery in 1942 all the more shocking.

_"The past is the past...you can't change it..." _Latvia tried to tell himself, as the memories nearly brought a tear to his eye. _"I can't look bad in front of the new President..."_

He gathered up his willpower and pushed the sad feelings away, so he could focus on what he would say and do to make a good impression.

The time soon came and Latvia had a slight panic attack. It seemed as if the past couple of hours had passed too quickly and he still didn't feel ready for the meeting. Despite this the aide hurried him along, promising to take care of the formal introduction.

Latvia found himself standing in the president's office before he knew it, staring his new boss in the face. He swallowed and tried to speak only for his tongue to freeze in place and prevent him from producing any desired words.

"Cat got your tongue?" The old man asked casually, sitting down, picking up a pen and beginning to do some paperwork. "We don't have all day..."

Latvia coughed. "Um, Mr Ulmanis...I'm your...actually you're my new boss, I think..."

"What?"

"There's a lot I need to explain first...a really big lot..." He managed to blurt out to his own relief, for now that he had made the first step, the rest couldn't be any more difficult.

"Go on."

"Well..." Latvia hesitated to take a deep breath and prepare for the effect of what he would say next. "I knew your grandpa and his brother pretty well..."

Mr Ulmanis twitched upon hearing those words and raised his head while adjusting his glasses.

"What did you just say?"

"I knew your grandpa and his brother." Latvia repeated.

"Impossible. You wouldn't have been born than."

"I have proof."

"Where?"

Now was Latvia's time to really shine. He straightened himself up and walked towards his boss, until he was close enough to pull up a chair and sit down. He tried to ignore the surprised look on the old man's face and reached into his pocket, pulling out an old black and white photo.

"This is me in 1935..." He explained, pointing to a figure in the centre of the picture, before holding it up near his own face for comparison.

"Well, it looks like you..." Mr Ulmanis observed, adjusting his glasses once again.

"Yes, it does. That was the first time I ever posed for a photo, in fact..."

"...But you probably faked it..."

"No! That's not all the proof I have, there's more!" Latvia protested, jolting in his seat. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a few folded pieces of old paper, throwing them on the desk before him.

Mr Ulmanis eyed him disapprovingly and shook his head. _"Kids these days..." _He seemed to mutter as the last piece of paper landed in front of him.

He picked up the first one and unfolded it, his bespectacled eyes travelling across and down the page, taking in the details. He gradually grew stunned and eventually dropped it, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. He then hastily reached for the next paper and read that one as well, producing the same reaction from before.

Once he had read through each piece of paper, Mr Ulmanis looked skeptically back up at Latvia and cleared his throat.

"Those are just letters I never got around to sending..."

"And this is all your handwriting?"

"Yes, here's something I wrote last year."

He handed another page to the president, this time one that was still fresh and of different quality to the ones he'd presented before.

"You write poetry?"

"It's my hobby..."

Mr Ulmanis began to chuckle and filed the page away, before Latvia could demand that it be returned.

"Well, you've been quite determined in proving who you are. I may as well let you stick around for a little longer, just to see if you live up to your claims."

"Thank you!" Latvia exclaimed, excited that he had succeeded in his goal. "I won't let you down!"

He took a few steps backwards, turned and ran for the door, but was called back by his new boss.

"Before you leave, I just want to know what I should call you in public..."

"Raivis."

"Surname?"

"Um..." Latvia paused. He looked away instinctively as he realized that he had never really bothered to give himself a surname, and now he wasn't ready at the moment when it counted.

It was at then however, that he noticed the newspaper on the stand to his left and the photo of the somewhat attractive dark-haired woman on the front page. He was all too familiar with her existence, for he had seen a few times before on television singing opera in her wondrous voice.

"Galante..." He said, speaking his thoughts out loud.

Meanwhile, Mr Ulmanis began to stare at him with a mixture of amusement and dread.

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**Author's Note: **Guntis Ulmanis was President of Latvia from 1993 to 1999 and the first after the years of Soviet rule. He was the grandson of the brother of Kārlis Ulmanis, whom was one of the last prime ministers before the Russian occupation.

I think Latvia would enjoy reading and writing poetry, considering his history and culture.


End file.
